


I Could Walk On By or Make it All Come True

by indevan



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Post-Time Skip, Sexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21866593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indevan/pseuds/indevan
Summary: Caspar has some questions about his sexuality and a secretly pining Linhardt is happy to help--in the name of research, of course
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring
Comments: 8
Kudos: 122





	I Could Walk On By or Make it All Come True

**Author's Note:**

> it's about the _yearning_

There wasn’t often time to read these days. Linhardt tried to make his own time but someone would come barging in, dragging him off to some strategy meeting. Or else he would stay in the infirmary, healing people until they responded or they didn’t. When he closed his eyes, he saw the sigils of his faith magic in after images behind his shut lids. Alone time was crucial, which was why he savored it now. The library had remained mostly intact after the attack on the monastery. He didn’t know why but, unlike most things, he didn’t question it. With times as they were, Linhardt didn’t have time for idle curiosities anymore. He longed for the day that he did, though. When he could lie under the sun and look into every passing thought that came to mind.

He wasn’t really alone in the library. Lysithea sat in one corner, completely absorbed in whatever book she was reading. She rarely spoke to him unless she had to. Dorothea stood in the stacks near the back where what damage there was in the library was centralized. He wasn’t sure if she was looking for a book or just looking for a place to pass the time.

“Linhardt!”

Caspar burst through the library doorway with all the subtlety of a bull. Lysithea jerked her head up and glared before tucking it back down into the pages of whatever book she was reading.

“Hello, Caspar.”

He couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed by his intrusion. Not anymore. And, even without that (which he feared to admit aloud), he was used to it. Caspar always burst in at inopportune moments and disturbed whatever it was Linhardt was doing. It would waste more time to be annoyed with his interruptions.

Caspar plopped next to where he sat at the table, and Linhardt noted that he was careful to keep his elbows away from the pages and pages of notes he had been writing. That was the other thing. He was always careful and observant where it counted.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I need to talk to you. It’s personal.”

Caspar sounded concerned and Linhardt felt the back of his neck prickle. He didn’t want to delve too deeply into what those words meant. Last time Caspar had to talk to him about something personal, it was because he had a rash on his backside left by his armor.

“What is it?”

“It’s about sex.”

 _Oh._ Linhardt swallowed and carefully placed a bookmark in the book he was reading.

“What about it?”

Caspar seemed not to care that Dorothea and Lysithea were present. Lysithea, however, did, because she heaved an exaggerated sigh before getting to her feet and stomping out of the library. Linhardt was certain that that was mostly for the principle of the matter and not because she was truly upset.

“So, okay. Hilda was talking to me and she asked me to come help her with something in her room and she said it was moving luggage or something, but it _turns out_ she was talking about sex.”

“Oh. Well.” Linhardt tried to think of what to say. “And then what happened?”

“Well, we had sex. ‘Cause I figured I’d never had it before and Hilda’s nice and pretty, but…” Caspar sighed and dropped his head into his hands. “I felt like...it’s bad?”

Linhardt swallowed again.

“No one does well on their first time.”

“No, no. I mean, I wasn’t fantastic but Hilda said she liked my enthusiasm. It’s. I wasn’t into it.”

He wasn’t really interested in hearing about Caspar’s sex life. Before, it didn’t matter, because there was no sex life to speak of. But there was his cursed curiosity. Curiosity and a moment of idle time. A dangerous combination.

“Not into it?”

“Yeah, I. I don’t think I’m attracted to women. I kept.” Caspar bit his lip and looked askance. “It’s dumb.”

“No, go on.”

Linhardt tried not to look at him as he arranged his notes and put his ink pots and quills together.

“I kept picturing her as a guy.”

“Oh.”

That was what Linhardt hadn’t been expecting. Somehow he had surrendered himself to the fact that Caspar’s tastes ran solely towards women. It was a silly assumption to make since Caspar never said anything to that ilk, but. Odds and all that.

“You may be only interested in men,” Linhardt said, taking on the role of the more experienced best friend giving advice, “or not.”

Caspar’s brow knit and the corners of his mouth drooped. Linhardt pretended not to notice how endearingly adorable he looked.

“Or not?”

“Yes. You know how I’ve been with men and women?”

Caspar nodded. It wasn’t a secret that Linhardt’s fondness for experimentation had recently run into the sexual nature. He was curious and he found people who were interesting to him, but. It never scintillated. He always just wanted to lie there and sometimes he’d even nod off while the person was still on top of him.

“Well, after all that, I would say that I have a preference for men, but I still enjoyed the sex that I had with women and wouldn’t be opposed to it in the future.”

“Ohhhh…” Caspar tapped his chin. “So you’re saying I’ve not got enough experience to figure it out?”

Linhardt didn’t think so. He had figured out his tastes long before his first sexual encounter, after all.

“Maybe, maybe not,” he said, “But I think pretending to be with a man while you were with a woman is pretty telling.”

“Yeah…”

Caspar glanced down at the table for a moment, and Linhardt’s heart--treacherous thing it was--skipped a beat.

“Don’t tell Hilda, okay? I do like her, and she was nice and I had a good time, mostly. I don’t want to upset her.”

He wouldn’t dream of it, partially because Linhardt could count on one hand the amount of times Hilda had even spoken to him. She knew her wiles wouldn’t work on him because his desire not to do things he didn’t want to trumped even hers.

“Of course.”

Caspar seemed pleased with that, but he still looked a bit unsure. He reached up and toyed with the longer strands of his hair. Linhardt wasn’t sure if he had told him how he liked his new look. Caspar’s growth had been gradual until it hadn’t. It felt like, all of a sudden, Linhardt had realized that he didn’t have to droop his body quite as far to drape himself across his shoulders (shoulders that suddenly had a lot more room for him) and take a nap.

“What is it?”

“I guess I...I dunno. I feel like I gotta…” He chewed his lip. “It’s dumb. I’m just confused.”

Linhardt spread his palms across the bumpy cover of the book he had been reading.

“You’re thinking you need to sleep with a man to figure this out?” he offered.

“Yeah! Which...I guess sounds dumb. I dunno. I just want to know for sure…”

He was treading in dangerous water now, but he couldn’t stop.

“Well, it is also isn’t as simple and just men and women,” he said. “But for now, we can focus on that, if you’d like.”

“We?”

Linhardt sucked on his lower lip, knowing he was playing them both. Knowing he was potentially hurting himself.

“Yes. If you’re going to be so glum, I can lend my help. I mean, experiments are my speciality, after all.”

“You’d do that?” Caspar’s eyes were big and it took everything for Linhardt not to melt on the spot.

“Sure. Come by my room tonight, alright? I won’t be here much longer.”

He tried to make his voice sound impartial and removed as best that he could. He was helping Caspar, nothing more. Caspar grinned, lighting up his whole face. He reached out and grabbed Linhardt’s hand.

“Thanks, Lin. This means a lot you’re willing to help me like this.”

He gave the hand a squeeze before bolting out of the library just as quickly as he had entered. Linhardt stared at the pile of books he had brought down from the shelf, unsure what he had just done, until he felt a presence behind him.

“Don’t you even start.”

Dorothea slid gracefully into the chair that Caspar had just vacated and propped her chin up on one hand. Her hair tumbled down over it, the ends of her curls just bouncing above the table’s surface.

“How long have you had feelings for Caspie?”

He didn’t owe her, except that he did. They had left their house together, stayed with the Alliance through everything.

“Back at school,” he said, “after went to Remire. Caspar was so angry and upset about everything and I realized that I just wanted to make things better for him.”

Looking at him and wanting to take him into his arms and stroke his hair. Tell him that it wasn’t him, wasn’t them, that was messed up. It was the world. How Caspar believed so fiercely in justice and doing the right thing and how it made Linhardt want to believe that as well.

“You’ve been in love with him for five whole years?” Dorothea asked.

He shook his head. “No, I’ve been in love with him my entire life. I only realized it five years ago.”

Dorothea made a sympathetic face and he wasn’t sure how to react.

“You know, if you have feelings for him, this is a bad idea.”

“Is it?”

She toyed with some of her hair and then let her hand lay flat, palm down, on the table. It still quaked a little, but Linhardt was used to that. She took facing their former classmates harder than anyone.

“This definitely isn’t just an ‘experiment’ for you where you’re helping your friend. And it might be for him and that’s going to hurt you.”

Linhardt swallowed, hating that she had cut so quickly to the bone. He shook his head. Without thinking, he reached back to the ribbon he used to tie his hair. It had been a gift from Caspar when they were younger and Linhardt had complained about his growing hair. He had paid him back by making him a grounding charm for when he got frightened by storms. He probably should have realized his feelings even earlier when, in his boundless curiosity for the reaches of his own magic, he never learned any thunder spells. When he had bypassed those books per Professor Hanneman’s suggestion, Linhardt had thought it was because they were too destructive. He saw Dorothea use such magic on the battlefield and what lightning did to a human body...well, maybe he understood Caspar’s fear just a little. But he knew now that that wasn’t the case.

He realized that Dorothea was still looking at him, expecting some kind of response. Linhardt let his hand drop from his hair. He lifted his chin and let out a puff of air through his nose.

“I won’t let it.”

\--

Linhardt half-expected Caspar to already be at his door when he got back from the library, but he mercifully had time to prepare himself. He knew Dorothea was right, but he wasn’t going to let her be. If this was their only coupling, then that was that. He could live with his emotions and Caspar could have a fully realized idea of who he was and. Maybe if he _did_ realize he liked men, he would like Linhardt back.

Which was a dangerous path to tread. He felt like he did when confronted with the proof of Solon’s experiments. Wondering if what he did would lead to the same outcome, but. This wasn’t playing with other people. He was playing with his own heart.

So why was he going through with it?

Linhardt didn’t have an answer, but there was a selfish part of him who knew this could quite possibly be the only time he and Caspar would ever be together. He wanted this, even if it could potentially shred his heart to nothing when he was done. It was better than nothing, wasn’t it?

He didn’t have any longer to ponder on this--whether he should call it off or go through with it--because his door was open and Caspar was entering. He never bothered with knocking. It was customary for them to just walk into each other’s rooms. Linhardt did it far less frequently because he never wanted to make the journey upstairs unless he was already up there, secreted in the library for hours or days on end. On those occasions, he would stumble into Caspar’s room and fall onto is bed. Caspar would shift, even if he was deep in sleep, to accommodate him.

“Wasn’t sure if I should knock,” Caspar said, “Since this is different and all, but. I don’t want to make it seem like more than it is.”

The tips of his ears were red as he said it, voice wavering as he tried to sound casual. Linhardt had grown used to asking people if they wanted a tussle. If he was interested, he would go and put his hand on the crook of someone’s arm and make an offer. Sometimes it went the other way with someone asking him, but it was all very casual. This was supposed to not mean anything. He was helping Caspar. That was all.

“Good idea,” he said. “Now, we should probably get to it.”

Caspar nodded. His hands went to his shirt--a simple linen garment that showcased just how much he had grown over the years--and then paused there.

“When we’re, you know, in the middle of it...should I kiss you?”

Linhardt drew in a breath. “I feel that that would make it a more authentic experience.”

“Good call!”

Caspar strode over to him and caught him by the back of his head to kiss him. Linhardt had to tilt his head down, but not nearly as much as he would have used to. He knew he was done for the second their lips met. An ardency bloomed in his groin and he felt like his very nerves were on fire. He leaned into the kiss, wanting to get lost in it. But he knew it would ultimately lead to nothing. Whatever Caspar decided after their coupling, it most likely wouldn’t involve him. No matter what he wished for.

They fell onto the bed and Linhardt tried to be clinical about it. This was just sex, after all. But he couldn’t. This wasn’t like his previous times where he lay there and made complaints and demands to his partners. When he would sometimes fall asleep in the middle of it, on the cusp of something that never quite came.

He felt like he was adrift at sea, rocked by waves. They rode higher and higher, hands searching, lips touching. The wave cresting, hollowed by its own curl and reflecting golden red by the sun. Linhardt could see it so clearly in his mind’s eyes. He was the center of the wave, riding it with Caspar until they crashed together on the shore, holding onto one another as they did.

Afterwards, he lay there in bed, knowing this was a terrible idea. Dorothea was right. He was just hurting himself. Caspar sat up next to him, blankets pooled around his waist and his head resting in his hands.

“Oh, wow,” he said. “That was...I mean. Uh. Thanks, Lin. That was good. I.”

His nose and cheeks were red along with the tips of his ears now. Linhardt barely could look at him. Their little experiment was over and now here they were.

“I think you were right,” Caspar said, “I _am_ only into men...and that was.”

He let out a puff of air that turned into a shaky little laugh. For a moment, Linhardt thought that he was going to cry. He didn’t know what he would do if Caspar started crying. He was never good with tears, even his own. Especially his own. He didn’t think _he_ was going to cry, but if Caspar started, there was no telling if he would join in. His insides felt shaky as he lay there, hair fanned out around him. Caspar had taken the ribbon--the one _he_ had given him--from his hair so he could run his fingers through it. He had been tender and only a little awkward. He had taken to sex the way he took to everything and it made Linhardt’s heart ache.

Again, he thought about how Dorothea was right. She had warned him against this, but he had plowed right on in. Right he always did.

“I should go back to my room, shouldn’t I?”

Caspar’s voice kicked up on the end of his question, which made sense. Sharing beds came with not knocking, even into adulthood. Coming into each other’s rooms and just lying there. Before, it would be unthinkable for him to leave after entering Linhardt’s room. Even if Linhardt was up all night reading, Caspar would still sleep in his bed.

Linhardt stared at his ceiling, not wanting to look at him. Not wanting him to see his face. He willed his voice to engage, for him to say anything.

“You don’t…” he began, “have to.”

It was both what he did and did not want to say. Part of him wanted to just have Caspar thank him for helping him figure himself out and leave, but part of him wanted to say.

“Lin…” His voice sounded small and vulnerable and more quiet than he had ever heard hi.

He finally made himself turn his head to look at him. He was flat on his back and so he had a strange angle to view Caspar, sitting with his knees drawn up as he was.

“I’m sorry,” Linhardt said.

“For what?” Caspar asked, voice cracking.

“For offering, when I.” He didn’t know what to say. No, that wasn’t right. He _did_ know what he wanted to say, but he was terrified of saying it.

“When you what?”

He had a choice. There was no easy way out. Lying and saying it was simply an experiment would get Caspar to simply thank him and leave. Admitting his feelings was even scarier. Which was foolish to think. They were at war. They could die at any time. But this frightened him more than death, more than blood.

“I shouldn’t have offered this, because it was an offer made out of selfishness,” he said, nearly regretting the words as he spoke them. But he had to keep going. “Selfishness because I love you and thought this was an easy way to--but it wasn’t. And now it’s done and…”

Linhardt trailed off. He didn’t know what else to say. Caspar looked at him.

“You love me?”

He didn’t want to say it again, didn’t trust himself to, so he nodded.

“Oh, then. I guess it’s a good thing that I don’t want to leave, then?” He let out a laugh that felt like salt water on a cut.

Linhardt sat up slowly, letting his hair fall and obscure his face.

“What?”

Caspar reached out to push it back so he could look at him.

“I. I don’t know. When I kissed you, it felt so. I know I don’t have a lot of experience, but that kiss...it felt like nothing else. Kissing you gave me the energy to fight twelve demonic beasts.” He gave a version of his grin and lifted a fist. Linhardt put both of his hands over it and leaned towards him.

Caspar kissed him again. It was as before: waves, bells, cresting higher--Linhardt felt something salty trickle down the back of his throat. This he hadn’t expected. In everything, he had hoped, but. He never thought it would be the case. He thought Caspar would bop off to find someone else to be captivated by his earnestness and bright grin. He didn’t think he would stay.

“So what I’m saying is--I’m glad you asked for this experiment. ‘Cause I don’t think I would have known to.”

He grinned at him and Linhardt gave a smile back. Still smiling, he leaned in to kiss him again.

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: smugsnail/smugsnailcos


End file.
